Blades of Ink
by mandaree1
Summary: (Teen!Delinquent AU) In which tattoos end up brightening both of the Pines' twins in their lesser hours.
1. Mabel: Cake and Needles

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls!**

 **Title: Epee of Ink**

 **Summary: (Teen!Delinquent AU) In which tattoos end up brightening both of the Pines' twins in their lesser hours.**

 **Warnings: Vampire!Gideon, because why not?**

 **...**

It'd been a bright and sunny day out when Gideon Gleeful had been munched on by a vampire.

Most supernatural origin stories have a bit more pizz-azz than his. Secrets, lies, forbidden love- the like. That opening statement, in and of itself, was a farce, and far more interesting than the actual happening. His story was a tad more simple than all that. Gideon had been a rather dangerous child, with a habit of biting off more than he could chew- pun intended. He'd conjured up an ancient vampire's tooth, perhaps from the great Dracula himself (a little dark magic never hurt anyone), stuck it in the palm of his hand, then sent it back from whence it came.

He'd done it on a whim. Now-a-days, with some psychology books under his belt, Gideon wondered if he'd been striving for immortality subconsciously. As though, through it, he could become better than the folks he manipulated, and therefore feel better about himself. If so, then his younger self had had a lot to learn.

Vampires aren't immortal, for one. They don't have any special powers or abilities. He had to wear more sunscreen on sunny days, but he'd always burned like a hamburger on a griddle set on too high a heat anyhow. The venom he'd once had- capable of turning others- had been removed, leaving nothing but useless fangs in their wake. It'd been one of the conditions he'd accepted to avoid getting chased out of town.

Fun fact: vampire fangs grow continuously, much like a rodent's, in order to properly pass on the gene. With as many punches to the face a person can take in one lifetime, it's good to have a backup.

That's it. That's all they really do. Gideon's learned to file them once or twice a day, or simply gnaw on some wood around the clock. He'd rather not do either, and let them keep to a longer size, but he had to tread a fine line with the locals, you see. Wendy's already threatened to chop his hair off with an axe, and Gideon knows all too well that woman doesn't make empty threats.

"Quit it." A dark hand tapped his cheek. Seated on a child's booster seat (Gideon had always been small, but he rather preferred that) with what amounted to a fancy apron tied around his neck, Gideon looked and felt just plain silly. Having someone else cut his hair horrified him, but friends are supposed to 'support' each other, so he'd really had no choice. "You need to sit still."

Gideon glared into the long mirror, trying to magically gain heat vision and melt the young woman's face off. "I have to, and you know it!"

"It won't kill you to let them grow. It'll take less than an hour to get this done." Tambry's hands ran through Gideon's hair. Her face scrunched up. "Never mind. That's a _lot_ of hair gel."

"It'll take me _days_ to file 'em back down, all even and smooth!" He scoffed, throwing his back against the chair as a sort of tantrum. "I have a _system_ , woman!"

"So do I." Tambry clacked her scissors together in demonstration. "Don't make me go for the ears, you little twerp."

Gideon was saved from answering by the connecting door between her hair salon and Robbie's tattoo parlor opening. He eyed the the older man's side-shave and blue-purple highlights with mild distaste as he shuffled into the room. "Hey, babe. Babysitting?"

"Might as well be." She sighed, but it wasn't intended to be mean. He hoped. "Isn't it a bit early for a break?"

He slumped into an open chair. "Yeah, probably. But I needed some air."

"Well, since you're still on the clock, you can sweep my floors." She gestured to a supply closest on the back wall, next to what looked to be a unisex bathroom. "You know where the broom is."

Robbie let out an explosive sigh- _his_ form of a tantrum, Gideon thought- and sulked over to it, gathering forgotten bits of brown and black hair from a nearby corner. "I guess this is my fault; hiring a teenager."

"Mabel giving you trouble?" She frowned, pulling her fingers free. "Dunno what you want me to do here, Gideon. There's no changing it."

Gideon snatched his head away as though it contained dark secrets, glancing at Robbie with glowing eyes. "Mabel's _here_? Now?"

"I mean, at the moment?" He pointed out the window. "She's haunting the curb, all gloom-ily. That's _my_ job."

Gideon caught sight of a blue and pink blouse adorning her body, and felt a stab of disappointment it wasn't sweater weather. He also noticed short curly hair; she'd cut it. Gideon wanted to cry, but knew better than to say as much. Freedom of choice, and all that jazz.

He'd known his darling angel was in town, of course. Everybody knew. Dipper and Mabel far from blended in, what with their habits of causing mayhem wherever they went and chasing around magical creatures. Gideon had merely been trying to give her space, to let her come to _him_ when she was ready _,_ but there she was, within sight. It was a miracle.

"I just don't get her." Robbie says. "She's either causing trouble and gambling my customers out of their saving with card games, or moping around like she's planning a funeral. There's no in-between."

"Bipolar?"

"I doubt it." He dismissed. "Just weird."

Suddenly, Gideon had a simple but effective way to wriggle out of this, and he took it, jerking to get out of the bib. "I'll go talk to her! Maybe she just needs some cheering up, is all."

Tambry tsks and helps him with the knots he can't reach. "Don't be a creeper."

"I _won't_ be. I know how to be polite."

"Whatever you say, dude."

"Seriously, bro." Robbie warns him. "She'll shank you."

"Ignore him. And, if anyone asks, I took a bit off the top, okay?"

"Alright." He dismissed distractedly, staring out the window. "Will do."

Upon closer examination, Gideon realized she was wearing black shorts with the blouse, tan legs unmarred save for the odd boo-boo covered in a band-aid and a few scars. A cheap plastic necklace settled nicely around her collar; a not-so-cheap star nose ring glittered in the bright sunlight. He could just barely make out the edges of a tattoo on her shoulder. It looks blue at the edges, whatever it is.

Gideon shuffled his own feet, clad in bulky sweatpants and shirt that was three sizes too big with a meme on the front, suddenly feeling remarkably unprepared.

Mabel took a swig of her Pitt Cola, spat out the pit, wiped it on her shirt, and chucked it at him. "For your fangs."

It hit the ground before he could finagle his thick fingers around it. "Gosh darnit!"

"I have a pack of smokes, if you're into that sort of thing."

"You smoke?"

"No. But it never hurts to have a new bad habit ready."

Gideon examines her loose shoulders and half-lidded eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Existence is meaningless and I'm not allowed to have any cake this late." She stated bluntly. "Let me delve into my nihilistic side in peace."

"You sound like you're having a rough time, doll." He thought better of patting her knee like a petulant child.

"I'm not. Things are just peachy. Mama Wendy's awesome, I got a room, all the food I can eat, etc, etc. I'm merely filled with teenage hormones." She laughed shrilly, letting herself fall back onto the sidewalk. "I'm sorry. Your voice is really grinding on my gears."

Gideon kicks his little legs up. "If it's my voice that's bothering you, then I won't talk no more."

"Silence is worse." She admitted gruffly.

"Didja have a bad night?"

"Oh, no. It was _perfect._ Dipper woke up screaming, _I_ woke up screaming- one big lovely angst-fest before the coffee was even brewed."

Gideon winced, although he knew the poison wasn't necessarily directed towards him. It felt instead like he was watching her idly sharpen stakes with acid, jabbing the finished products into her tummy and sighing when no blood came out.

And, as a vampire, you can probably guess how Gideon felt about stakes.

"Anything I can do to help? I can go pick up a cake from the convenience store."

"I'm not hungry." Mabel answered curtly, swallowing down the last of her soda. Gideon winced, resisting the urge to remind her how easy it was to choke when laying down. "I wish I was, but I'm not."

"You wanna bounce, then?"

"I _want_ to do my job, but Robbie's being a big pair of fussybritches. Apparently, my "sour disposition" freaks folks out. Hypocrite."

"Huh. You think it'd be the gambling."

Mabel cracked open a single pretty brown eye to examine him. She was still frowning. "When did you figure out sarcasm?"

"'Bout the time I almost died from a lack of knowin'." He replied quickly, hoping to entice a laugh out of her.

"Yeah." Mabel's eye slid shut. "Me too."

They listened to the cricket and cicadas chirp for some time, the sun melting red patterns into Gideon's hands. He cursed himself for not thinking to bring block.

"You could tattoo me." He offered sheepishly, shaking in his boots. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Gideon hadn't been scared of anything since Weirdmaggedon, and that was a fact. A fact made out of stone. A rock fact.

Without missing a beat, Mabel replied; "You've got the padding for it, but what kind of tat would you even _want?_ "

"The Tent of Telepathy sign!" Gideon exclaimed, without thinking. "It's always been my favorite shape."

"I've got a shooting star." She mused dryly. "And now you want the star thingy. See a pattern?"

He knew, almost instinctively, the answer. "They're all things from that circle thinga-ma-jig."

"I wonder if this is gonna be a _thing_ for us. Dipper's already got a birthmark of his. McGucket wears glasses. Ford was born with his, too. But you can't exactly carry around something like a shooting star or a symbol- tattoo city is it for us, then."

The idea makes him a bit nervous, honestly. Being that connected with folks he was only distant friends with. "Maybe."

"Maybe Mama Wendy'll get an ice bag." Her tone is flat. "That'd be funny."

"So, uh." Gideon says, perhaps a bit too loud. "About that tattoo."

"Chickening out on me, sparkle teeth?"

" _Sparkle teeth_?"

"Great uncle Ford says he heard of a dimension where the vampires glitter. It sounds horrible." She gave a small laugh, more of a cough. "So much for cover."

"...Alrighty then." He shook himself out of a whiplash-induced haze. "Whatever. Are we doin' this or not?"

" _Are_ we?"

"'Course. I can afford it." Even now, Gideon was far from lacking in the money department.

"Seeing how this is a pity-tattoo, I think I can take it out of my paycheck."

"It's not a-" But Mabel was already shuffling towards the door. There was a slump to her shoulders, but the beginnings of a glean in her eyes.

Gideon had helped.

He clung to that knowledge- and the table- like a mantra as he felt the needle pierce the tender skin of his right shoulder blade over and over again, ruining his perfect sharpen to avoid puncturing his lip by cracking wood between his canines. He'd forgotten his own fear of sharp pointy things.

All in all, though, it was worth the fear.

 **Author's Note; Second two-chapter 'fic for this AU, and my first go at Teen!Gideon!**

 **A little nod to the vampire theory, and a little reference to Over The Garden Wall. I'm sure you saw it if you're a fan of the show; 'tis not exactly subtle.**

 **-Mandaree1**


	2. Dipper: It's Too Early for This

**Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls!**

 **Title: Blades of Ink**

 **Summary: (Teen!Delinquent AU) In which tattoos end up brightening both of the Pines' twins in their lesser hours.**

 **Chapter Title: It's Too Early for This**

 **Warnings: mentions of self-harm and substance abuse**

 **...**

 **werepirechick \- Thanks!**

 **The Keeper of Worlds \- Gideon isn't always the brightest. =)**

 **william and jack and jake \- Thanks!**

 **...**

"I'm _so_ sorry." Dipper yawned, but didn't sound sorry at all. "Please don't eat them. At the very least, let me pick the more suspect cases for you."

It's three in the morning. In a black nightshirt and cloud blue boxers, he felt like quite the sight to see. His long brown hair had been pulled into a fabulous braid, complete with crumpled fake yellow flowers in it. He had glitter on his face from falling asleep at their shared desk. His Mage Mom insignia hung reluctantly from his neck, pointing at the pathway to Hell, where anyone who asked him why he had flowers in his hair could go.

The Multi-Bear is an imposing but odd figure, as far Dipper has been led to believe. Yes, he's tall, and he's got teeth everywhere, but he's still just an amalgamation of bears. A bear made of bears. Bear-Bear.

"No, no, I'm not mad." The Multi-Bear waved a claw, years more patient than Dipper would be at a time like this. "Besides, gnomes taste horrid."

"Ah." The teen glared at the pack of gnomes scouring his humble den, yanking open drawers and fiddling with what Dipper imagined were personal items. "I get it now."

"I mean them no harm, so long as they stay out of my diary." He assured Dipper. It made him want to pout. "I simply wanted to discuss why their scent has been all over my territory. I didn't imagine they'd send you."

"Jeff's busy."

"On a date?"

"With his wife, yes."

"Poor dear." The Multi-Bear rubbed at his eye with a paw. "I don't mind sharing my land, you know. Well, normally I would, but it's not like they'll find anything of use here."

"Gnomes aren't very bright, no." Dipper agreed. "Thank you for understanding that."

"Indeed. Why did you take this job, anyway?"

"I needed the cash so Mabel and I could save Waddles."

"Oh. Well, that's just silly. I would've let you ride me for that pig. It's too cute to perish."

"Thank you for the support, but it's a bit late now." He rubbed his sweaty hands on his shirt.

"Hey, Mage Mom." A gnome skittered up, looking more disheveled than ever, beard and hat askew. He proudly held out what looked to be a glass ball. "Can I take this?"

"Is it yours?"

His brows squinted. "No? That's why I'm asking."

"Then that's your answer, Gregory-" Dipper for the life of him couldn't come to terms with the fact that he knew most of their names now- "No."

"Aww."

"Don't whine. Put it back."

The Multi-Bear watched him with something like awe in his eyes. "Have they actually gained a sense of common decency?"

"The new queen has installed a bunch of new rules. She's actually done a lot in shaping them up."

"She has my respect, then. Any idea who she is?"

Dipper scratched at his chin. There was no stubble to it- he's a late bloomer. "Unfortunately, no."

"Shame. Give Her Majesty my condolences if you do happen to meet, then." A claw gently tapped his foot. "Now that we've got that territory dispute out of the way, how are you?"

Dipper shrugged, averting his eyes. He wished he had a free lock of hair to chew on, but Mabel knew what she was doing in spite of lopping her own hair off years ago. It was pulled tight. "I'm working as a Mage to a herd of gnomes. Have a guess."

"Fair enough. You don't look well-rested."

"Did I ever?"

"Once, perhaps." He traced the dark circles under his eyes. "But not anymore."

Dipper shrugs and pops a pen in his mouth. Seeing how he has no pockets, he thinks maybe one of the gnomes brought it. "Not for a long time, big fella."

"I suppose. But _these_ ," Large paws grab his wrist, gently laying his arms out so the little white lines poke out more, "look new."

Dipper forces himself not to get defensive. The Multi-Bear is a hulking creature, but that doesn't mean he's still not a great friend who just wants to help. "Not new. Not really, anyway."

"Did you do this?"

"Some of them. Mabel and I get in our fair share of tussles."

"Hmm, I see." He let go, leaning down so they were eye to eye. "My boy, you know we'd miss you if you left, right?"

Dipper felt a sentimental ball clog his throat. Stupid, misguided ball of emotions. It wasn't like he didn't already know this. He blinked some tears out of his long eyelashes.

"I'm not suicidal, I promise."

"I didn't think you were. You wouldn't _be_ here if you were. I just thought you'd like to hear it. When was the last time you treated yourself to something nice?"

"When we got Waddles a few months back. I've been busy."

"Much too long. Is there anything in particular you've wanted to do?"

"Well..." Dipper hesitated. "I've been wanting to start getting these sleeves- tattoos, I mean. All black, with magic spells and shapes all over them; a walking charm encyclopedia, you know? But it won't get done in one day, and it's expensive."

"They're paying you in gold coins, Dipper. I think you can eek out enough to splurge." The Multi-Bear said. His voice was gentle. "Everyone deserves a treat. Go get dressed and find yours."

"But-"

"Dipper. We love you. We want you to be happy. Go find something that makes you happy."

Dipper's lip quivered. He brutally wished Stan were here; his blunt tongue would keep him tethered to reality. Better yet, all he needed was Mabel to slam down a few cold ones and she became violent Stan with a dash of angst.

"Thanks." He choked out, feeling stupid. The creature pulled him into a scratchy and claw-filled hug.

"Of course, my boy. Anytime."

 **Author's Note: Finally got around to finishing this! 'Bout stinking time, honestly. =)**

 **-Mandaree1**


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